I've checked with the rulebook and I can see only 1d4+3 in dagger damage unless I go two-handed which I do not expect to with a dagger, trident maybe. I could be overlooking something of course. Thanks.

You're overlooking your trait. It gives +1 to damage with daggers and +1 on swim checks, making Swim a class skill, I believe. River Rat, or whatever it's called. Also, you can't two-hand a light weapon, at least, not if you're expecting to do more damage. It does nothing mechanically speaking, just like two-handing a rapier.

Yep my trait, just took it for the swim bonus, didn't remember the damage boost. Wondered about that light weapons thing, doesn't come up often. Need dinner, brain fuzzy now. Thanks for walking through that, haven't done a hand build on a PC in many years now. Wonder why my PCGen is messing up now?

The crunch seems fine, Donovan. I'd appreciate a little more fluff, though. There's something to be said for getting to know another character through play, but there's also something to be said for investing in a character's history and manner prior to play.

Thinking ahead a little bit, Gorax could take a couple of levels in Ranger, two-weapon fighting to be more useful skill-wise, especially tracking if needed. I had anticipated him going up in fighter only, but these things can change according to group needs.

This is Stellan, a winter witch. A much better character with a strong back-story. There are a few special points.

This is a general support character with some forest skills, some healing, some arcane magic, able to fill many roles.
His familiar is a white wolf cub bought as a fox, in the long run the DM and myself would need to work out his advancement, maybe through a number of feats.

The background is unusual in presentation due to the other DM's requirement for many NPC's. I still think it works well though.

I also have another character that was created for a different kingmaker campaign a Dwarven Cleric of Cayden Cailean. His backstory isn't quite complete and tidy, just need a little more time for that, but he's mostly there. You should see the 25pt option for the character. So if you prefer him to Gorax, then he's available, though personally my 1st choice is Gorax I still like Arvind.

Essentially taken the charter as part of a drunken bet, as so much of his life has been chaotically fated since leaving his clan.

Presenting Asok Demon Tongue for consideration. A Half-Orc Thug Rogue who follows Calistria. Convicted of Brigandry in Brevoy, he was banished back across the border into the River Kingdoms with a writ in his pocket, having convinced the judge of his desire to turn over a new leaf. Perhaps he believed him, or maybe just he was just amused at his brazenness. Asok is looking for a chance to make a new life for himself, having left behind friends and some enemies.

not sure if you are still taking applicant but here is Chief White Eagle:

He was created using word casting but if unfamiliar with word cating then completly disreadrd that part as the only thing that effects is how I prepare spells and thus would revert to normal spell prep for a druid. has no other effect on abilities nor background.

Arcadia, the mysterious continent, lies across the Arcadian sea. A place of mystery and wonder; Centuries ago Ulfen settlers called Arcadia their new home, until the natives took offence to their presence and nearly drove them from their home.

The native tribes called skraelings by the Ulfen settlers were considered savage and ruthless. But this I can tell you is not entirely true.

I am White Eagle, son of Ten Bears, and I am a skraeling. Though I was not born on the land my ancestors once called home My Father and I have held to the teachings passed down to us by my father’s father and his father before him. I am of the Defohy tribe, Nomads always moving with the changing seasons making our home in the plains of Arcadia in places where our horses may graze and the fish are abundant.

The Defohy depended on the land for their survival. The earth and rivers provided roots and berries, fish and game. Farming and land ownership were foreign to the Defohy. They believed (and still do today) the earth was not to be disturbed by hoe and plow. The land was their home, not a commodity to be bought or sold.
Chief Yellow Wolf, a relative of Chief Ten Bears said, “We were always here. The Great Spirit placed us on this land of ours.”

Many miles south of the Ulfen settlement others from your world also journeyed to Arcadia. Settlers, seeking trees, animals and metals came to our home. These settlers moved into land we have journeyed to for countless generations. We sought to make peace with the newcomers and many of them welcomed us. We showed the settlers how to farm the soil in Arcadia and where to hunt good food. The Ulfen were friends. My people called all who came to our land as Ulfen as we had no concept of the different races of other lands. To us what you call elf was called spirit beings that were as mysterious to us as our home is to you.

Not all settlers who came to our home were friend. Bad Ulfen, I have learned were called Cheliax in your tongue, came to take gold from the hills and mountains of Arcadia. They enslaved many skraeling to dig the gold from the earth.

My ancestors became scattered and many were sent on ships to Cheliax home. Among them was my grandfather Chief Charlo, whose wife was with child. My father was the first of the skraelings to be born on this new world.

My father was strong and it is said that he had the strength of a bear and would do the work of ten men and so was given the name Ten Bears. Ten Bears was a slave like all the skraelings brought over to Cheliax.

However the Great Spirit saw what was happening to the people of Arcadia and took pity on them. Many skraelings were freed when guardians of freedom who bore the sign of the eagle freed our people.

Ten Bears lead a small group of Defohy north until we found land to call home in what is called Restov Plains. There. Our people prospered living peacefully on the plains and many new Defohy were born.

Ten Bears took a wife and bore a son, White Eagle.

For many years my people lived freely on the Rostov plains, trading goods with the settlements in this new land. My brother, Swift Elk, would lead hunting parties and trade furs with other Ulfen hunters and trappers.

Soon though Cheliax warriors would try and destroy the peace my people have created. (Note Cheliax is the name given to all human bandits, brigands, or other unsavory types, including warlords). Many disguised as Defohy attacked and scalped local Brevoy villagers.
Trust of the local villages and settlements was beginning to deteriorate. Ten Bears journeyed to the Ulfen city of Restov to plead the case of our people.

The Mayor agreed to a treaty with Ten Bears. The Defohy people would provide one of their own and explore the place called the Stolen Lands and there the Defohy could go and make a new home. And in return the people of Restov would assist and help protect the Defohy people.

During this time White Eagle had recently returned from his journey of the Wyakin to receive his guardian spirit. White Eagle had a vision while alone that he would be a great leader of his people guiding them to new lands and better hunting grounds. White Eagle was to go to fulfill Ten Bears promise to the Chief of Restov.

The Defohy have a strong belief in dreams and visions. Young boys and girls went alone to remote places hoping to receive knowledge of a personal guardian spirit. This personal WYAKIN would warn them of danger and give them special powers. In all phases of daily life, the Defohy thought of the spirits of forces and objects around them as supernatural WYAKIN

Donovan was keeping pace with a wolf and had nearly forgot about the one behind him. His peripheral vision picked up other lupines to his right and left, through the trees. He was surrounded. He didn't feel threatened though, just an urgency. The urgency to get somewhere... in time.

He dodged boulders, jumped over roots. Ducking under a low hanging branch, he sprang up to cross most of a stream. His hot feet splashing into the cool water, sending shimmering droplets in every direction beneath the moonlit sky. Had he ever felt so alive?

There was a clearing up ahead, illiminated by a broad swath of moonlight. There was a form on the ground near a large flat rock, a man by the looks of him laying at an awkward angle. He'd fallen that way. The youth ran faster, gracefully leaping into the clearing and approaching the body. Whomever it was, was still breathing. An axe shifted and came to rest upon the ground.

He must have fallen not a second ago, just before the boy saw the clearing.

One of the wolves stood up then, not as a wolf stands... but rather transformed into a silver warrior maiden, shimmering within a shaft of moonlight. Her fine chain shirt nearly draped like silk. A long curved shape of an elven blade hung across her back and her skin, like alabaster. Her hair just past her shoulders, braided in places but mostly a loose straw-colored mane.

Donovan turned, expecting the others to transform as well. They did not.

"A man has fallen... 'van. What do you do?"

"Who is he?"

"Does it matter? His life blood seeps into the earth..."

"What is he, a killer... Bow, javalins, axe, knife, hide armor, shield." Donovan took a quick closer look, moving around the figure to examine his face. He nearly gasped.

"He is a half-orc, Shoanti. Chevyo Windwalker if it means anything to you. His life wanes and yet you ask questions."

"Doesn't look Shoanti... full head of hair and no visible tattoos. Where are the arrows?" Donovan spots a small empty quiver. "With the bow on the ground the half-blood must have spent his entire quiver, maybe a dozen arrows."

The youth's eyes scan the treeline around the clearing and sure enough, he sees the dark fallen forms. Kobolds. Punctured by arrow and javelin. Some disemboweled and cut nearly in half, most likely by the axe. There were a dozen or more bodies littered about.

"He was surrounded, yes... do you let him die?"

"He was no brute, either... arrows puncture those bodies furthest away. Then javelins closer. A dagger in a chest closer still and then the axe-work. When it was over, he made it here perhaps wanting the rest against this rock."

"What will you do, 'van?"

"Who are you? Why do you call me 'van? Only my father called me that... and he's dead years now."

"Who am I? It hardly matters and you know it... What is the most important thing?"

"Now?"

"Ever..."

The youth did not hesitate, it was so part of his spirit, part of his being. His mother would reinforce it, but he knew she didn't have to and would laugh.

"Life."

"Then..."

"Freedom."

"And..."

"Beauty."

"Will you let him die, then?

Donovan looked down, now for the first time... he had nothing but his cotton sleeping pants. Barefoot, bare chested, he carried nothing, he had nothing.

"What can I even do? I have no bandages, no salve, no needle or salts."

She laughed then, a beautiful and nigh unearthly sound. "What is worse than Evil?"

"Good that does not act."

"Then act, Boy!"

It was his own will, but as if she reminded him... awoken something within. He leapt to kneel beside the fallen warrior and merely touched his forehead. The half-orc's head spasmed slighty, but them relaxed. Donovan checked the warrior's pulse and sensed both it and his breathing were now stable.

"How did I do that?"

"I repay you a debt, manling. It is the convenant."

"I don't even know you... what debt?"

"I killed your father, Donovan. His zealotry consumed him and he came after my kind... hunting us, rooting us out and burning our homes, our briars, our sacred places. I took life. I am giving life back."

"You give life to this half-orc?" The boy was confused and his head started to spin, slowly at first.

"I give life to you, young Donovan... a gift, you may pass on. Choose your path wisely, mortal. Be the man, you thought your father was... but could never be."

"You are Fey, the... but the wolves. The warrior, why... how?" He was starting to get dizzy. But, he could still here her voice as she knelt to pick up the fallen warrior, as if he weighed nothing... or so it seemed.

"His mother, a Witch... close to nature. These wolves delivered onto me a request for aid. Her son, in danger. I owed her a debt as she had given me the means to ulimately defeat your father. So, you see... I repay two debts tonight."

"So I saved the life of the son of the witch who helped you kill my father..." He had nearly passed out.

"Exactly."

She walked away then into the foliage, carrying Cheveyo Windwalker. Her silver-grey furred boots hardly making a sound, the retinue of wolves in her wake.

The world faded to black, and some part of the young man welcomed oblivion.

After that night:

Donovan since, has looked more closely at his dead father's career. He didn't like what he found. Because he was young, they had hidden much of his father's "exploits". Confronting his mother didn't help, she made excuses.

A traveling Priestess of Sarenrae was passing through town... Donavan offered to help her, left with her and later joined a temple of Sarenrae, the Dawnflower. If he couldn't undo his father's deeds, he'd make up for them.

Returning home, an Acolyte of Sarenrae yet a pupil of all that is good... He is determined to wade into the greenbelt and help establish a place of acceptance, of tolerance and a haven for any who would work to build and protect it.

Even with his nobility, in name... he cannot do this alone. So, he seeks opportunity, funds and others who are like minded enough to align himself with.

With his cart-towing mule as companion, the young priest braves the wilderness open to what each day brings.